


MidWinter Light

by Aithilin



Series: Seasonal Prompts [10]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Family Fluff, Fluff, Found Family, Holiday Traditions, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 07:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21132596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Nyx realizes that he hadn't really celebrated an important holiday in years. Noctis offers help to get their little family together for it.





	MidWinter Light

Nyx had learnt early that holidays were hard so far from home.

With every glance at the calendar, he thought of a thousand ways things used to happen back in Galahd. He thought of summer festivals on the beach with their feats of skill and strength, and the spring blossoms with their garlands string across every storefront and road. He thought of the bright gatherings as the leaves turned, and his family gathered close. How Selena had helped decorate the bar for their first everything, insisting on streamers and garlands and the shining lights he was convinced she’d hang regardless of the season or festival. He missed the smells of his mother’s kitchen, and the squabbling of Libertus trying to ‘help.’ He missed the coziness of the winter warmth at his family home; mint and lavender and rosemary wafting through the air as rich meats roasted in his mother’s oven and they played games for the honour of carving the first slice of the meal. 

He even remembered the gatherings when he was small, watching the sea-born winter winds from the dark front windows of the house. His father always started the longest nights off with an orange in hand, a soft smile as he deftly peeled the fruit as he told stories best suited for the midwinter dark. Nyx remembered the smell of the orange peel on the hearth, drying and cracking beneath the heat while Selena protested the ghost stories by asking for the lanterns to be lit. 

It had been hardest the first few years away. 

No one had really felt like celebrating. No one actually knew how to, in a foreign city like Insomnia.

Even in the depths of midwinter— when homes back in Galahd would be hanging lanterns and stoking fires to last the longest nights— it seemed the entire district was at a loss. Shrouded in a somber reminder of what lay behind them on the road; the traditions set aside in the blazing neon glow of the Lucian festivals instead. 

He didn’t blame the younger generation for not knowing what the colourful lanterns sold throughout the district were for. 

“How are we even going to do this?”

“We don’t need a fireplace for it.”

“But we need a fire.”

Nyx had never pegged Crowe as the traditionalist. 

“No we—”

“Why not use one of the Citadel rooms?”

They had gathered in Libertus’ apartment to plan. To get ideas and see if they could do something, anything, now that things in the world had settled enough to make them think of home without the sting of loss. Without the clawing grief that had driven them there settling over them. 

They— he, Crowe, Pelna, Libertus to host, and Noctis— had settled around the apartment with notes and plans and stories of the midwinter lanterns back home. Noctis had settled apart from them to watch, to listen, to spoil Libertus’ bad-tempered monstrosity of a cat— Fira— with soft strokes and softer praises until she was purring like a kitten in his lap. The purr from the cat was the only noise between them as the suggestion registered. 

Nyx cleared his throat; “Noct, I don’t think his Majesty—”

“If not, he doesn’t get a say in it,” Noctis asserted to the scoffing bemusement of the others. “I’ll host it.”

Pelna was always the gentle one, the logical one. The one with big, soft eyes and easy words to let someone know just how stupid an idea was. “Highness, we couldn’t impose. Hosting is more than just providing a meal and lighting a couple of lanterns. There are traditions that need to be followed for it.”

“Bullshit,” eyes turned to Libertus, where he had been making the lists of supplies and things we would need. “We got ten years without even marking the day, and you want to whine about tradition now? The kid— no offence, Highness— has listened to us talk about this for hours. If he wants to host, let him host and we can figure out the duties later.”

“It’s not about want, Libs,” Noctis shifted enough to disrupt the cat in his lap. He leaned forward to examine the notes Nyx had made about the necessities for their festival. “We’ve already been bad hosts, and this is supposed to be about making a home right? Why not do it in the biggest way possible? I can open the Citadel to this. There’s a ballroom with a giant fireplace that no one ever uses, it’s yours for the night.”

There was a hesitation in the looks shared between them, and Noctis rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll take care of Dad. It’s just a family gathering, right?”

None of the Glaives expected it to get further than the planning stage. The year before, they had all marked the festival with texts shared through the night and a candle in the windows. The year before, they had gathered around the ornate hearth in the Kingsglaive barracks with the recruits— sharing stories and drinking before they remembered to light the fire. Despite Noctis’ confidence in his ability to open the royal home for this year’s gathering, they all prepared for another midwinter with candles and mourning. 

None of them expected the King to embrace the idea as enthusiastically as Noctis did. 

The room had been cleared of the usual Lucian finery— the sigils and decorations meant to impose and impress on the guests staying there. Nyx recognized it as one of the odd conference rooms— one wall dominated by the grand fireplace with its hearth as tall as Noctis, the singular long table that usually held the space pressed against a wall opposite the wide arched windows and laden with the boxes they had allowed Noctis to collect through the week. The room was shorter than a ballroom, and more homey than a conference room. It had been meant to greet friends and families, gather visiting royals and dignitaries that maintained friendly ties to the royal line. 

It reminded him of Libertus’ family parlour back in Galahd, despite the gold and silver accents set around the room’s dark walls. 

Their last midwinter festival had been in that parlour, with its big fireplace; the windows opened to the cold winter airs while the grills outside worked through the night with the food they took turns making. 

Here, in the heart of a foreign city, Ignis was setting up layers of grills over the dormant hearth. Libertus beelined for it to discuss the handiwork, a secondary, portable stove already tucked aside and waiting for a spark in a corner. The boxes of their collected and mismatched decorations had been set out on the table, Gladio and his sister already laying out the garlands with Pelna and Crowe while Prompto started to snap his pictures of them all. It wasn’t unheard of for the decorations to go up the day of the festival; it was a family affair to get the home ready, to designate the important windows for the events, to set the mood for the night. 

And Nyx suspected that none of them had given the Amicitia siblings any thought, as old decorations— garlands, ornaments, suncatchers— joined the mismatched things carried in. He had forgotten that Lady Amicitia was Galahdian. 

Noctis stood at the windows, watching the snows float around them like ashes caught on a breeze. He smiled to Nyx at the approach, “Does this work? It faces east.”

“It’s perfect, little star.” They were earlier than expected, the sun out of sight on the other side of the Citadel, but the golden glow of the world still shining in reflection of the buildings below. “Selena would have loved this.”

She would have loved being so high above the city, watching the lights below as Libertus muscled his way into cooking duties and scolding the host for trying to light the fire before sunset. She would have been elbow deep in the decorations with Iris and Crowe, cooing over the suncatchers wreathed in glittering tinsels. She would have been teasing and playing and enjoying the magic of those moments between dusk and night, when the winter moon was a sliver behind the snow heavy clouds. 

“Good.”

The fire was lit moments before the last reflection of the sunlight faded from the window’s view— a careful co-ordination between Ignis and Libertus as the meats foods were wheeled in, and cuts and spices were the new topic of debate. Compromise was made to allow for their varied tastes, and Ignis settled for his corner grill while Libertus commanded the open flames of the fire. Nyx was called on to use his height with Gladio, stringing up the garlands that would hold the lanterns they made that night— the papers and wood and twine all set out with a note from the Marshal. It was mid-decorating that the King peeked in on them. 

Despite the invitations to stay— enthusiastic from the Lucians, polite from the Galahdians— Regis excused himself to let them celebrate, offering his congratulations while his Shield stole samples of Libertus’ cooking and nodded his approval. 

By midnight, they had gathered around the hearth with drinks and caffeine, food offered up to the group in big bowls and plates set between them. And the ghost stories to pass the long night had started, with Noctis in Nyx’s arms (definitely ruining the spooky effect, Nyx thought) to listen and add his own. 

Lanterns were built and lit with false candles, hung across the garlands to brighten the room. 

When the sun rose beyond the grand windows and across the winter swept city, the gold and crystal suncatchers spread the first rays across the dark room in a burst of dawn— a new day and new year reflected in their little room first. They watched the sunrise with tired eyes and the fading stories still ringing around them— echoes in the dark stone walls of the Citadel they had stolen for a single long night as a mismatched little family.


End file.
